Kanto in Flames
by oracleoflost
Summary: This is going to be a slightly darker look in the world of Pokemon. Nothing terrifying, but perhaps a little less friendly and colorful than what we're all used to. The Story is open to comments and ideas, and I would greatly appreciate them!
1. Chapter 0 Origin

If, after reading this, you liked the story, want to comment on it, or anything else, please post you comments on my deviantart page: TheLostOracle, since this is the website that I primarily use. Input is always appreciated! Enjoy the story

Kanto in Flames: Chapter 0 - Origin  
by ~TheLostOracle

What happened?

I cough thickly, ash and bile mixing into a choking paste in my throat. My nose and eyes are streaming freely, and I can barely breathe. Something nearby collapses with a pitiful crash, and I am showered in hot cinders that stick to my clothing and burn my flesh. It is too dangerous to stay here, but I can barely open my eyes.

Weak and blind, I crawl forward. Broken glass cuts mercilessly at my hands and knees. Ash worms its way into the gashes, itching and burning. As I move, the ash swirls into the air I'm trying to breathe. I cough continuously, my throat so raw and painful I'm sure it is torn and bleeding. I want to quit and rest so badly, but I don't dare stop here. Smoke hangs thickly in the air, evidence of more fires burning nearby. I force myself to keep crawling, keep breathing, keep hoping. There has to be more to the world than fire and ash.

A tortured sound manages to pierce the ringing in my ears. I am drawn toward it, drawn to the one shred of evidence that something else alive exists in this place of darkness. I keep crawling, but I find my strength returning bit by bit, and I finally manage to open my eyes. The world is a swirl of black, red, and orange. Flames dance in the distance, jovially consuming everything in their path. I am well behind the flames now, lost in a hazy ocean of smoke and destruction. I stop to listen, praying for that sound to come again. For just a moment, it had given me purpose and direction in this hellish place.

My patience is rewarded. Another moan, faint but distinctly alive, floats through the haze. I cannot see the source; only the remains of a structure, collapsed and charred black. A reckless courage seizes me. I would rather be killed and buried in the rubble than lose this gossamer thread of hope I have found to cling to. I approach the structure, still crawling. It might have been a house once, but now I cannot even discern its original shape or size. The moan comes again, more urgently this time. I pull myself to my feet using the blackened and twisted remains of a downed tree. Perhaps it was too green to burn. Or maybe the fire swept through so quickly it didn't have time to catch properly.

Gravel crunches under my feet as I move forward, evidence of an old road or walking path. It is buried under so much ash that I can't even see it. When my path parts from the tree, I sway unsteadily and my head spins. The smoke is more dense at this level, and it fills my nose, choking me. I find myself on the ground, with no memory of falling, but my left shoulder and the side of my head hurt even more now. I crawl again, feeling the ground change from gravel to dirt to concrete. I'm close now. Most of the structure has been demolished, but one part – perhaps a garage? – seems to have escaped relatively intact. Most of the roof has fallen in, one corner has collapsed, and the walls stand at an unnerving angle, but they still stand.

I move to a hole in the wall. It is blocked by a pile of cracked and splintered two by fours, and I don't dare try to shift them for fear that the whole building will come down on top of me. Slowly, I pick my way around the structure. Wires and pipes lay jagged and broken under the ash. I receive a long, deep laceration on my right shin as I crawl, and it is immediately filled up with ash. It burns so badly it seems the fire has caught under my skin and brings new tears to my eyes, but I can't stop to cry. If I stop, I will die here.

Alone.

"Hello?" I croak weakly. It is all I can manage. My voice sounds shrill and muffled in my own ears. It is as if the living have no right to speak here, and the very air rebels at the sound of my voice. This is a place of death.

Something hears me though. A frantic scratching and scuffling comes from within, and then a whine of frustration. I release a breath I didn't realize I had been holding. Something else is truly alive here. I am not completely alone. Not yet. Before long, I find another opening. It might have been a window, but now it rests askew, just above the ground. The way is mostly clear, so I try to crawl in, but my hand comes down on a shard of glass hidden in the ash. I cry out, a pathetic, wheezing sound, and recoil. A rough triangle of glass is embedded in my palm.

As I pull the shard out with my other hand, the glass catches the light of the flames. Reddened by my blood, the light dances merrily in the glass. It is strangely beautiful. I can't tear my eyes away. The sight relaxes me. What I wouldn't give to simply sit, or perhaps lie down, and do nothing more strenuous than watch the flames. So pretty...

A booming bark startles me back to consciousness. Entranced by the flickering light, I had started to doze. As far as I can tell, it has only been a few seconds, but the lapse awakens me to the danger I face. Falling asleep here would mean death. I force myself to move, pushing myself back up to my hands and knees. My right arm buckles as pain races through my hand and wrist, but I manage to force myself up anyway. It registers somewhere in the back of my mind that what I'm doing is stupid, suicidal even. I'm not even fit to walk, and here I am trying to rescue some dog from a collapsed building. Still, as I kneel in the ash, listening to it whine and moan, I can't bring myself to abandon it. I could just as easily be the one trapped in there. For all I know, it might even be my dog.

No, I decide. I refuse to leave you behind. I won't leave you alone to die.

I am ready for the glass this time. I fish around in the ash for a stick, and sweep the ash and broken glass away from the window. When, as far as I can tell, the ground is reasonably clear of glass, I crawl through the small opening. Inside the structure is dark and hot. The smoke hangs so thick I can barely see. Small flames still flicker here and there, glowing like candles in the gloom. Their light extends only a few feet before diffusing completely into the smoke, giving the impression of suspended globes of orange light. "H– Here I am," I say, coughing on the smoke.

The dog whines again, and I hear it struggling frantically. I can't see it through the smoke, but I can hear it thrashing around. I follow the sound, squeezing between the beams from the caved in roof, and skirting around the flames. Finally, near the collapsed corner, I spot the dog. When the roof caved in, it must have nearly buried the dog in debris. The dog claws frantically at a hole just too small for it to wriggle through.

"Take it easy." I try to speak calmly, but my rasping throat just doesn't have the strength to do any tone other than pathetic and sickly. "I'll get you out of there. Somehow."

The big problem is, the way the roof and walls are sagging, it looks like the whole place might come down if I move anything. However, I already made up my mind to try, so I move around the debris, poking and prodding, looking for something loose. Down by the floor near one of the walls, I find a few loose boards. They are hopelessly tangled, and I can't possibly hope to pull them free, but I think I might be able to pry them just far enough apart for the dog to squeeze through.

I get back down on the floor. The air is cleaner here, but not by much. I take a few deep breaths to try to clear my head. "Listen up, pup," I say. "I'm going to lift up those boards over there. See if you can squeeze through, ok?"

The dog barks loudly, as if it understands, and stops clawing at the beams. I have no idea if it actually comprehends what I said, but I have to try all the same. Before I stand up again, I take a few more breaths of the relatively clean air to sustain me. It doesn't do much to bolster my strength, but it will have to do. Using the pile of fallen and broken beams, I manage to leverage myself back to my feet. The room starts spinning again, and I know I don't have long before the ambient smoke drives me back to my knees. Before I have time to even think about giving up, I put my shoulder to one of the two by fours, take a good grip with both hands, and heave. My right hand complains angrily, and a fresh spurt of blood trickles down my fingers. Spots break out in my vision, and my head swims. My body just isn't ready for this kind of abuse, and I have only lifted far enough to make a gap that nothing larger than a small cat would fit through.

Just as I am about to concede defeat, I hear the dog whine. The tip of an ash-covered snout peeks through the small opening I have created. If I drop the pile, it will crash down on the dog's head, maiming it, and perhaps even killing it. I inhale deeply, steeling myself for one final effort. The smoke makes me cough, and I tilt forward, nearly falling. I can't breathe anymore, I can't even see. With one final wrenching heave, I manage to lift the beams another few inches.

The dog forces its way into the gap, clawing at the floor and the beams with its front paws, kicking feverishly with the back, doing anything and everything it can possibly do to wiggle through. Part of what little roof remains sags suddenly. Something hits me in the side. Blinding pain explodes in my head, and I see a bright white flash. The coppery tang of blood fills my mouth. My body finally rebels completely, and I fall, heavy coughing tearing at my lungs and throat. The pile of beams collapses, and I am sure I am about to die. The whole building is coming down around me. More hot cinders fall on my exposed arms, my neck, my face. Something pulls at my neck, choking me. The world dissolves into a dark, sepia-toned hell of noise and pain.

Suddenly, the noise stops. I still ache, and my lungs are burning, so I know I am still alive. It's a small comfort. My hands claw at my eyes, trying to tear out the smoke, ash, charcoal, and wood dust while I retch uncontrollably. Between bouts of retching, after I have emptied the contents of my stomach, I manage to breathe. The air is better here, but still reeks of smoke and burning. Several minutes pass while my body rages against the toxins I have been breathing for far too long, and for most of that time, I am convinced I am about to die.

Slowly though, my breathing eases, my stomach stops convulsing, and my eyes clear. Something rough and wet touches the side of my face. I recoil instinctively, rolling away, but I don't have the strength to go far. I wind up on my back, staring up at the billowing clouds of smoke against a blood-red sky. The rough, wet something attacks my hand now, wiping away the blood and ash from the gash in my palm. It eventually occurs to my overwhelmed brain that the rough, wet thing is probably the dog's tongue.  
That's good, I think. That means it got out ok.

But how did it get out of there? How did I? I remember the pull against my neck. Something had dragged me out of the structure by the collar of my shirt. Someone rescued me.

"Hello?" I gasp. "Is anyone there?"

Silence.

The dog starts licking my face now, but not randomly. It's almost as if it is trying to deliberately clean away all the soot, ash, and blood.

"Did you save me?" I ask.

The dog barks happily. I hear its tail swishing back and forth in the ashes on the ground.

"Thanks. I guess that makes us even."

As I lie there, exhausted and aching, I feel as if a golden ray of sunlight has pierced the clouds of smoke. I still don't know where I am or how I got there – I can't even remember my own name– but there is one thing I know.

I am no longer alone.

-  
End of Chapter 0

These chapters will have slightly erratic times of release. More information is posted on my deviantart account listed at the top of this work. Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed it!


	2. Chapter 1 Rain

Kanto in Flames: Chapter 1 - Rain

by ~TheLostOracle

Smoke rolls so thickly across the sky that I can't even tell if it is night or day. I think it must be night. All evil happens at night. Like in a story I once heard where…. For just a moment, I touch on something real, something from my past, but it slips through my fingers leaving nothing but a ghost of its presence. I am both frustrated and excited. My memories still exist in some shadowed corner of my mind. However, even with this revelation, I feel no closer to reaching them.

The dog barks twice. It has ceased licking my face, and is now pacing anxiously by my head.

I am not alone.

This thought sustains me. I have no memories, no goals, no ambitions, I don't even have a name, but now I have something to fight for. This dog will be my new friend and companion. We will escape this place of fire together, or not at all.

I roll over on to my side. My head throbs with each beat of my heart, booming like a great drum, my eyes burn, my lungs ache, most of the rest of my body hurts to some degree, and I feel tremendously weak. Getting up off the ground seems like it will be a heroic endeavor, but lying here a little longer won't make it any easier. Grunting with the effort, I finish rolling over on to my stomach. I inhale a nose full of ash and sneeze violently. My entire body contorts with pain as I sneeze twice more. When the fit passes, my head now ringing like a heavy iron bell, I find I have managed to raise myself up to my hands and knees.

This is as far as I can go for now. I am already dizzy, and doubt I could keep my balance even if I could find the strength to stand.

"Where to, pup?" I wheeze. "You're a dog, right? Use your animal instincts, or whatever." The dog whines and paws at the ground impatiently. What else could I expect? I didn't really believe it would understand me. Or did I? The thought just makes my head hurt, so I push it aside and take a good look around.

In a direction I arbitrarily decide to call east, the fire still rages. Smoke billows up toward the sky in ugly black and red clouds, while trees and small buildings are consumed below. Aside from the crackling flames and occasional screech of twisting wood and metal, the scene is forebodingly quiet. Why is no one fighting the flames? Is there no one left? Have they all evacuated or are they all…? I don't allow myself to complete that thought.

Right, I think. Not going that way.

To the north, there is only blackness. Ash and smoke swirl hypnotically, stirred by thermal updrafts. Here and there, a few cinders still glow feverishly. Even as I watch, a blackened, twisted frame gives a final crack and collapses. Piles of charcoal and dilapidated structures stretch on as far as I can see. The scene terrifies me, not because of any imminent danger, but because of what I fear I might find if I crawl through the tortured ghost of a town. Even here, where there is still some light to see by, ghosts and terrible shadows gather at the edges of my vision.

To the west is more of the same, though the smoke seems marginally thinner. I consider going that way. By moving backward along the path the fire took, I can most quickly distance myself from the flames.

To the south, small fires still burn. The smoke is heavier there, but I see something in the distance, something strange. I realize with a sickening lurch that I have forgotten that colors other than red, black, and orange even existed. Beyond the smoke, I see a new, wonderfully refreshing color. I think hard, and the name comes to me.

Green.

I don't remember ever being so happy. Green is the color of life. Despite the fires I will have to avoid, I decide to go south. The sight of something new and hopeful fills me with renewed energy, and I begin to crawl toward it. The dog barks again and frolics along beside me, sweeping long swathes of ash into the air with each flick of its tail. It seems impertinent for the dog to be so carefree in this place of sorrow, but its energy is infectious. Soon, in spite of my pain and weariness, I begin to smile.

The wind shifts suddenly. Fresh, clean air is blown in to my face as the first gust washes over me. Admittedly, it is accompanied by a great deal of soot and the sudden cold causes me to shiver, but it is still the most wonderful feeling I can remember. With relatively clean air to breathe, I feel a small measure of my strength returning, and I struggle to my feet. My legs wobble uncertainly, but hold my weight, and my head spins less violently than before. That seems like a good sign. Encouraged, I forge ahead.

I am perhaps three hundred yards from the far edge of the flame-blackened wasteland when the first fork of lightning splits the sky. I am momentarily blinded, an image of the dog, its hackles raised and teeth barred, is seared into my eyes. It looks dangerous, maybe even feral, and I find myself suddenly frightened of it. Could it be rabid? Would it soon turn on me?

The lightning is followed immediately by a boom so loud it drives me back to my knees, covering my ears with my hands. A raging wall of force, displaced air from the lightning perhaps, crushes me to the ground. I am vaguely aware that the dog is barking now, as if to ward off the storm, but my ears are ringing so loudly I can't hear anything else.

A column of fire blazes up into the sky, blinding me again. I scramble away from the light and heat. It doesn't make sense; fire doesn't just leap skyward after a lightning strike. The blaze seemed almost seemed retaliatory, like the ground and sky were warring for dominance. That thought scares me. If there is a war going on, I'm right in the middle of it. Blinking furiously, trying to clear the cacophony of after-images from my eyes, I stumble to my feet. The dog is at my side again, no longer barking, but its fur all stands on end and wisps of smoke cling to its muzzle.

A new sound, muted by the ringing in my ears, draws my attention. It starts off as a distant buzz, but quickly grows louder and closer. At first, it sounds like wind in the leaves of trees, then the rhythmic cracking of twigs, then the pitter patter of many tiny feet against the ground. More lightning flashes and thunder rolls nearby. The sound is rain, and lots of it. A curtain of misty blue-black hurtles toward me from across the black wasteland. Raindrops the size of large marbles toss up clouds of ash as they pummel the ground. Flecks of white are mixed in with the rain, but I don't know what to make of that until the rain is upon me and the first one hits my arm.

Hail.

The hailstone bounces away more or less harmlessly, but it stings my arm. Another strikes my shoulder, and a third lands on my head, just above my left eye. That one hurts. The stones are getting larger, and feel dangerously sharp. I cover my head with my arms and start to run, shoulders hunched. More hailstones strike my arms, back, and neck. I cry out, but my throat is so dry I can barely whisper. All this water and none to drink.

The irony is lost on me as I run, slipping and sliding in the sticky muck of ash and mud. It coats my feet and legs, clinging and sucking, making squelching pops with each step. Something catches my leg, and I fall in the muck. It sticks to my face and worms its way in to my mouth and nose, choking me. I flail ineffectually, my hands seeking anything solid to use to pull myself up. My hand closes on something with a hot, crunchy exterior. Good enough. I pull at it, leveraging myself up out of the grime. The thing I'm grabbing breaks with an unnerving, meaty crunch and a terrible, sickly smell assaults my nose even through the layer of mud and ash.

Lightning flashes again, and the thunder smothers my scream. I'm holding the blackened and shriveled remains of a human forearm, hand and fingers included. I throw it away, trying to suppress rattling sobs of terror and disgust. Another flash of lightning blinds me for the third time, and the hail is falling harder than ever. I have to move, or the weather will kill me, but I don't want to look at the ground. So I don't look. I force myself up, standing on shaking legs, and run.

After several strides, I know I'm far enough away from the corpse that I won't see it, but I keep running blindly forward. The smell follows me, making bile rise in my throat. Even the lightning can't burn the image of the blackened and twisted arm out of my eyes. The mere memory of the sound it made as it broke makes my stomach lurch unpleasantly, but my stomach is long empty. Fear flows through my limbs like an electric current, driving me on.

The terrain is changing now. There is less ash, and the ground seems more level. I'm getting close to the edge of the wasteland when, without warning, I slam into something tall, narrow, and hard, and fall backward. One of my ribs feels cracked, my shoulder aches, and my knee is definitely bruised, but at least I didn't hit the obstacle face first. In the darkness, it's hard to tell what I hit. I reach out with my hands, feeling in front of me. I find a tall wooden post.

The post seems strangely out of place until I realize it is the first thing I have found that isn't burned and blackened by fire. In fact, it seems almost new. I feel up along the post until I find a wooden platform a few feet above head level. Without thinking, I duck underneath, desperate for shelter from the hail that feels like it is quickly flaying the skin from my back.

Under the platform, a large hole has been dug out of the ground. I can comfortably stand here, but several inches of water swirls around my bare feet. The water is freezing, and makes my feet ache numbly, but it beats standing out in the hail. I wrap my arms around my torso and shiver. Maybe I can wait out the storm here.

Something warm brushes against my leg and I jump, started, but it is only the dog. It shakes happily, showering me in more freezing water, but its company is more than fair recompense. I crouch down next to it to scratch behind its ears, and it licks at my wrist affectionately. For just a moment, I push all my other thoughts aside. I am alive, and I am not alone. All is not lost.

Then another flash of lightning shows me that I've been taking shelter under a gallows.

I scream again, and the dog barks loudly. Four bodies still hang, bloated and grotesque, just a few feet away. My stomach convulsing with dry heaves, I stumble out from under the shelter of the gallows. The hail hits me at the same time as another lightning strike lights up the plaza. Bodies lay hither and thither, some alone, some piled together. These people were murdered en masse. No wonder no one was left to fight the fire. Someone had exterminated every one of them, and left their town to burn.

Without a conscious decision, I find myself running again. I have to get away from this town. There is nothing here for the living. There is only death and fire.

Beyond the plaza is a forest. I make a beeline for it. The trees will protect me from the rain and hail, and anywhere is better than here. The dog runs easily on my right side, a few paces ahead like a guide. Ghosts and corpses and blackened flesh flit about in the darkness before me. I am afraid to keep going in the darkness, but I am even more afraid to stop, so I keep running. Even once I make the cover of the trees, I keep going until I am sure my heart and lungs will burst.

Finally, when I can run no further, I collapse against the trunk of a tall, thick tree. The rain and thunder are muted here, and the darkness is almost impenetrable. If the dog had not been leading I would surely have run into a tree, or fallen in a hole, or something equally disastrous.

Weariness overcomes me. I am cold, hungry, and I hurt all over, but I can't even make the effort to find a more comfortable part of the tree to lean against. As I close my eyes, the dog curls up next to me, warming my side.

"Good dog," I croak, then my head falls back, my eyes close, and I plunge into darkness.

-

End of Chapter 1

As always, comments are always appreciated. If you would post them on my deviantart account, ** ,** I would be quite grateful. Thank you for reading!


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